the moonlight, the firelies and the distant stars
lent their luminicience and flourescence in the sultry forests
their was no trace of civilisation , the torches were switched off
the footsteps treaded along in a landscape of black and white
the moon dropped to a semi circle
flashing itself above the dark waters
mirroring its beauty , and then smiling to himself
ebbed away into the night and the sea..
It was no more my debut, thank god!
This was an eerie one
The cold winter had wonderfully done its job
Frozen the whole town with a sheet of ice
The first remark was this town is ‘tot’
This was much pronounced on a Sunday noon
The nearby church spelled a ghastly tune
The Rhine flowed along the corner of this town
The waters were still, the people calm
A tiny rivulet was the Queisch,
That added more spice to this town’s life
But this was of course not the end
After two weeks of utter silence
The snow melted,The flowers blossomed,
People mushroomed on the streets in cafes and gelateries
The town was now growing onto us
And we were close to being ‘daheim’
Now a Sunday noon seemed better with elvis playing at the hostel
The church bells switched to the chimes, one could tell
The sunnier days were met with tastier buds
As indians and arabs alike cooked food and sung hindi songs alike
this was a learning of a different sort,
to live in a town with a few folks as well
an experience to translate and retell
I first set foot in the land I had known
The land of which tounge I spoke
The moment felt as if
I was meeting with an old pen pal I had never seen
The air was fresh a lil cold, the time had just changed ilona told
I moved into the pre war building on berliner strasse
A young girl I was entering into a new phase
I was soon ‘vertraut’ in this strange city
Where the past, present and the future met
I relished the hefeweizen until the last drop was left
That was my way of observing lent
I never felt here like a foreigner
In fact my voice echoed ‘ich bin (ein) Berliner’!
against the black blanket stretching far n wide
Sequenced with stars twinkling above
Two silhouettes met , the round ball of light shone bright
they puffed some fruity smoke into the chilly atmosphere
they wondered would this last forever
A crusty bread, with a dollop of butter,
With sliced tomatoes fresh ..sprinkled with dried herbs
a glass of citrus juice n a bowl of yogurt..
a cup of cappuccino would be a bonus..
Take a guess of what im referring to ..
its my perfect breakfast menu.. dude!
u live in a box
with sunlight rare
dense wih serpents that look fair
excited to join
committed you are
oops you forget..
it is a game afterall!
u look upwards to climb the steps
only to be interrupted by burning fangs
u may step back or take another route
as long as ure here u're need to learn these rules
hola amigo, to the old game
of snakes n ladders
0.
I know you can’t hurt me..no no u cant hurt me…cause it wont hurt…it just wont hurt..
Coz im bulletproof.. im bullet proof..u bet !im bulletproof…yeah yeah yeah
1.
I swim from the deep to shallow, switch from word files to excel sheets. I wouldn’t call it self –discovery. It is out of a quest for harmony and seeking balance. To jerk off from extremities.
I like to bear the brunt of my own confusions. Suffer alone in a dark nook. Pause for a moment in the shade before facing the blinding light of what may lie ahead. Some may call this being too cautious, timid, and meek but what the hell. Do they even know the feeling of being in a quite cool place with a fabulous view of outside absurdity?
2.
He haunts me. he haunts my thoughts , my sleep. He mocks at my very existence. Smirks at me . defies me from a million miles away . a ghost from the past. Who pretends to be the sun- god. What is this relationship I have , I don’t quite understand.
But there is hope inspite of this dread. i know the angel will combat the ghost.
3.
I’ve never celebrated Valentine but today is my 24th Valentine.. I have never felt lonier. I can only hum the song ‘back for good!’ . i think I have learnt the lesson. Never shun love or love shuns you…
4.
Is love a delusion or an illusion I know not… is it a sweet n sour lozenge or a spicy cinnamon or an ugly aftertaste…
Is it for profit or loss or ur emotions gone for waste
5.
Voices speak to me. Tiny voices, loud voices- loud as thunder, voices such as a soft whisper..they just seem to have ears and tongues of their own…voices from the crevices of my mind..and their own language..I don’t always listen to them..I alienate them just as they alienate me..
6.
Zero an egg shaped number, a number that found late acceptance – a number with an almost metaphysical tone to it unlike any other mathematical object..one cannot deny its absence yet one cannot prove its presence..pretty much like the circle that’s stands of infinity and regarded in oriental cultures as a circle of life.. the egg shaped Planet earth was so discovered much later by man unlike others who thought it was flat Many thinkers similarly tried to define God and termed God as the giver, creator, preserver, destroyer, formless, omni present, the substance, the mind, the universe, nature, water, air etc.. But when one closely goes back to the history of the Zero one sees a stark similarity between God and the Zero. Just like the zero, God does not exist physically. God is formless yet ubiquitous, god is the inner voice and a spiritual ,umbilical cord in human nature. Like negative and positive integers and decimals –god has also created objects, emotions that are positive and negative. Life is almost measurable like a scale where God is the pivot , the fulcrum.
7.
Ich bin nie so weit..ich bin nie so weit mit meiner Gedanken, meinem Glueck, meiner Traurigkeit, meiner Langweile oder Genuss..ich bin nie so weit mit mir.
Du bist nie so weit so lange du nicht zu zweit bist
8.
O my life has been an open book an open book to see.. I sit down an tryyyy to fathom myself in words, myself in a,b,c
9.Like a regiment of soldiers, we marched to the pantry for a solitary cup of tea ,
But no no no, look out… the enemy is in ambush..
the dark clouds of recession are cast over…behold!
A tea costs sugar, milk and water.. too too much!
Back to your line of control…
hey u solitary soldier …look out or u will be FIRED!
Trimmed to perfection
Cut to size
Gardened with love
Like a bonsai
Too different from its gigantic counterpart
It has too its charm
But it is cordoned off
Dwarfed by its magnifcance
A bonsai stands tall aside n apart
Human life is a self timed bomb
That blows u up when the time is up
The unique human face vanishes forever
Leaving behind his smile and laughter
It is the divine plan, of birth and death
There will be more facess one can bet
Tis the power of regenration
It’s a part of love and separation
a mind in a state of flux
willing to get to the crux
the objects of the mind
overwork beyond capacity
slouching the body
to their lowest ability
an object born anew
metamorphising the mind
spreading its vibrant messages
to the sparkling eyes , the rosy cheeks
and the body thin n slender
lying on the bed
hair a mess
a book in the hand
the mouth circles to a yawn
the mind feeling light and empty
u can call it a matchbox.
or call it a bug
u see it in the part of the city
known as the 'burbs'
it vrooms n swishes to make a fit
making sure the tummy takes a hit
with its piercing honks
and deafening trrroo trrrroo
landing in every squirmish at signal or a crossroad
for taking it u once again u feel like an asshole
but u really cant live without this ding..
its sure to give u a Near Death Experience..
the matchbox is ur lite to the city smoking pot...hole.....
A long corridor traversing many lands,
Landscapes rugged and seas of sand,
Races fierce and water scarce,
Many tounges spoken, and cloths weft
The breads changed like the shifting sands
The goods passed thru many hands
carried on the ships of the desert
Spreading their spicy aroma afloat
the buyers await at the Mediterranean shores
they tailor the fine silks and sell them to swanky stores
the corridor got lost in the sands of time
embedded in grenades and land mines
they ruined tall statues centuries old
the history must again be told
It is a great country this one,
With a history rich n a culture diverse,
Yet u cannot imagine a system this perverse
We had heard of leaders throwing chairs at one another
This time the national language created a fraca
We stand up for the anthem in a cinema hall
But is this what leaders are for?
Creating anarchy for a matter so trivial
Every thug, dacoit, pimp and gangster is holding a chair
While we sit back n read the morning papers with a stare!
The new tv spot of tea calls for ‘jago jago re’
But we seem to think of is ‘bhago bhago re’
May be this is why we fought for independence
To get a passport to flee from a state in ruin
a flutter in the stomach
a blush in the smile
a stroke of the hair
a nervous mind
a warm heart turns the hands cold n numb
the eyes await to meet the sweet enemy
he passes by but with a turn
A starry nite brightened by the gleam of diyas , vibrant lanterns n electric streamers ,
the blaze n glaze of ‘fatakas’ illuminate the sky and earth of the city of dreams
rockets dish dash in the air endeavouring to touch the moon, but quickly lose focus,
the festival lifts the spirits amidst a meltdown giving it a run for its money
families pour in at Marine Drive on cars or bikes carrying their Weapons of Mass Entertainment
